


Lower Fields

by Michelle_A_Emerlind



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Daryl Still Likes It, Bottom!Rick, But Versatile in the Verse, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Past Lori Grimes/Rick Grimes, Past Rick Grimes/Shane Walsh, Rick is Still Handsy, Spoilers through Season Three, farm, top!Daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 11:16:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2771033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/pseuds/Michelle_A_Emerlind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick and Daryl have recently settled into their relationship, but that doesn't mean that anything else is stable. Now they must support each other as they tackle the emotional journeys of dealing with everyone else in their lives and their own insecurities. AU from Better Angels on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lower Fields

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU from Better Angels in which the altercation between Shane and Rick ended differently and no herd passed by the farm. This fic can be read alone, but was written to take place after my fic [Time Passing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2756228/chapters/6179222).
> 
> This fic also has a companion piece by skarlatha called [Higher Ground](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2749952). So, if you want to know what's up with Merle and Shane, go read that. I know that Sherle is a very unusual pairing, but in the hands of the master skarlatha, it's perfect. I promise you won't be disappointed!

Rick focuses on counting his steps. One. Two. Eight. Fifteen. He puts all his energy into that, one foot in front of the other, crunching the grass down in the field he’s come to hate so very much. Twenty, he thinks. Thirty. He doesn’t bother to analyze how far he is from the farm, doesn’t think about the knife still clutched in his hand, dripping Shane’s blood into the Georgia ground.

Vaguely, he hears footsteps, softer on the grass than they should be. Through fog, he recognizes the voice, hard and low. “ _Shit_.” And then Rick’s knees give out and he falls to the ground. Daryl grabs him around the waist, tilts him down easy and then they are both sitting in the dirt, Daryl behind Rick. Rick clutches at his arm, at Daryl’s shoulder. He can’t speak and it terrifies him.

Slowly, Daryl tightens his one arm around Rick’s waist and then with the other he pries the knife from Rick’s fingers. And then Rick is tensing against him, throwing his head back and he can’t breathe.

***

Daryl catches Rick as he collapses and they go down. Rick clings to him, grabbing at his shoulder and Daryl asks him if he’s okay, but Rick is non responsive. So Daryl keeps talking. He doesn’t know if it’s getting through, but at least he can try. “What happened?” He asks. “Where is Shane? Did he hurt you?” Rick isn’t moving like he should. His muscles are all tense, board straight and hard enough to break. Daryl holds him tighter and then he sees the moonlight glint off the blade in Rick’s hand. He reaches for it and Rick jerks under him, grabs it, holding on for dear life and one of his fingers gets too close to the blade. It starts cutting in and so Daryl rips it from him and throws it to the side.

Rick falls against him and then rises away, opens his mouth to the night and he gasps for breath. Daryl doesn’t know what to do. He’s not Hershel. So he does all he can. He wraps Rick tightly in his arms and keeps whispering to him. “Rick, it’s okay. It’s me. Rick, it’s okay. I’m here. Breathe, baby, breathe. Please breathe.” And then Rick takes one gulp of a breath, his throat still tight and shivering.

“That’s it,” Daryl says, holding him. “That’s it. That’s one. Exhale. Okay. Another. Take another.” And then Rick does. They sit like that for what feels like hours and Daryl holds him until he slowly relaxes, until he lets it all out, breath by breath.

***

Slowly, very slowly, Rick comes back to himself. The first thing he feels is Daryl’s head pressed to the side of his. And then other sensations come back--the feel of the grass underneath his legs, Daryl’s chest against his back, the cut on his hand. He looks down, blinks at the wound, stares at it as if will heal itself from his gaze alone. “Knife,” he whispers and Daryl’s body curls into him tighter.

“Over there,” Daryl says. “Threw it away.”

Rick can’t nod and he can’t say anything else. His body begins to tense again and then Daryl is telling him to shut up and breathe and he does. He feels the rise and fall of his body against Daryl’s. Then, quietly. “Shane…”

“Is he dead?” Daryl asks.

Rick tenses again, but then he thinks of how Daryl is holding him. He thinks that despite everything, this is just another night in Georgia. The stars are out, the breeze is still blowing. And Daryl is still there.

“No,” Rick says.

Daryl nods against him. “Did he hurt you?”

Rick tries to pull away and stand, but he only gets one leg under him before he’s falling and Daryl is grabbing him again, laying him down this time. Rick’s head falls onto Daryl’s lap. “He’s gone,” Rick says and clutches at Daryl’s knee. “He pulled...he pulled on me and I had to. He…” Rick opens his hand and lifts it, like he’s trying to grasp something and then puts it back on Daryl’s knee. “I stabbed him. But he saw it coming.” Rick takes one long breath. “ _He pushed me to it_ ,” he whispers, the words as hard as he can make them. “He killed Randall--”

“I know,” Daryl says and runs a hand over Rick’s head. “I know.”

“He planned it. I...I had no choice. I gave him every chance and he kept leading me further out.” Rick moves to stand again, but Daryl’s hands are hard, holding him in place. He wants to get away from all this, away from the thought of that knife with Shane’s blood all over it. Shane--the man he used to work beside, fish with, tell all his problems in the world. The man he used to fuck. “I...I kept going,” he tells Daryl, thinking of how he could have stopped Shane from bringing him to that field, cut him off so they didn’t come to this. But Rick hadn’t. “Daryl, I wanted him dead. I want him _dead_.”

“Where is he?” Daryl asks and his voice is low, velvet smooth, and dangerous.

Rick shakes his head, gestures vaguely. “He acted like I stole away Lori. And Carl. Like he didn’t have them all along.” Rick squeezes his eyes shut. “Daryl,” he whispers, “this morning he said he would take you with him to drive Randall out. He would...he would have killed you. To get you out of the way. He would have killed you.” And then Rick is shaking so hard his fingers can’t grip Daryl’s knee and Daryl is leaning over him, creating a small cave of love and comfort with his body and Rick breathes into him, calms himself as much as he can.

***

Daryl waits for a long while for Rick to stop shaking, for his breathing to even out, and for his sentences to be full and fluid again. Only then does Daryl let Rick stand on his own, watches him balance himself, take a few weak steps. “I have to tell the others,” Rick says and starts for the house. Daryl follows him at a distance, far enough back to let Rick move on his own, but close enough to catch him if he falls.

Rick busts through the front door and collapses into a kitchen chair, leans forward and braces his head on his hands. Daryl follows him closely, stands behind him and the others gather around. Lori comes running. “Where’s Shane?” she asks and Rick just shakes his head.

The sound of Rick’s voice is far out, automated. “He’s gone,” he says and Lori’s eyes widen. The others wait.

“He’s _gone_ ,” Lori says. “Gone where? Gone...dead?”

“No, not dead,” Rick says and he waves again, “gone. He...pulled on me. He pulled a gun. Came at me, Lori. I…” Rick trails off and Daryl knows it’s evident that he’s just on the cusp again. So Daryl jumps in.

“Glenn and I found Randall,” he says, turns to Glenn and nods. “His neck was broke. Thing is...Shane and Randall’s tracks were right on top of each other and Shane ain’t no tracker, so he didn’t come up behind him. They were together.” He lets it hang in the air.

“What are you saying?” Lori asks and the gazes of the others bore into Daryl, waiting for his response.

Glenn puts his hands in his pockets and speaks softly. “We think he killed Randall.”

“He did,” Rick says and lifts his head up to look at all of them. “He killed Randall so he could draw me out.”

Lori shakes her head. “He has some anger issues, but he…” She trails off and puts her hand in her hair, the other resting on her hip. “He did it for me?”

Rick sets his jaw hard and then he nods. Lori covers her mouth with her hand and turns away. “And then what? You let him go?”

Rick’s eyes get glassy. “I...I stabbed him.”

“You stabbed him?” Glenn asks, his eyes just as wide as Lori’s.

Rick opens his mouth to speak, but he says nothing. Daryl sees the ripples in his shoulders as he tenses. And then he’s not breathing again. “Hershel,” Daryl bites out and turns to their host.

Hershel is bending next to Rick. “He’s having a panic attack. Everyone give him some room.” Hershel shoos the others back and Daryl takes two steps away, while Hershel continues to instruct them. “Lori, come here. Talk him through it. Let him know you’re with him.”

Daryl grimaces and his own body tenses. Lori hesitates, as well she should. Few people in the room know that she and Rick are over, officially done. Daryl doubts seriously that she can do anything for him. But then no one in the room knows about him and Rick, either. And now really doesn’t feel like the time to announce to the room that they’ve spent the better part of the apocalypse plastered to each other.

Lori kneels in front of Rick, locks eyes with him, but he’s not looking. “Rick. Sweetie. It’s me. You have to get through this. Come on. For me. For Carl.” Rick’s hand scrapes down the wood of the table, his nails digging in.

Hershel tells Lori to keep going, but it’s incredibly clear that her voice is not working for Rick.

“Hershel?” Lori asks, looking up.

“He’ll be fine,” Hershel tells her quickly. “Worse comes to worst, he’ll pass out and his body will breathe for him.”

Daryl tells himself to trust Hershel, but he hears his own voice say, “well, fuck that,” and then he’s pushing Lori away, sitting in the chair next to Rick and taking his hands. “Alright, you asshole,” he tells Rick. “I need you to breathe.”

Rick locks his eyes with Daryl, but he’s still not quite there, so Daryl keeps talking. “We’re going to take a breath now. Okay? Inhale.” Daryl inhales sharply, pulling his shoulders up higher than they naturally go. Rick watches him and then he’s nodding, trying to pull in air. “Exhale,” Daryl says and Rick lets all the air go out of him, his body sagging. “That’s one,” Daryl says. “Inhale.”

Beside him, Hershel whispers to Daryl. “Keep talking. Tell him something calming. Something not about tonight.”

Daryl thinks of what he can say, their memories together, and then he leans forward, dipping his forehead to place it on Rick’s hands before he remembers to snap his gaze up to Rick’s eyes. “Okay. Exhale. Remember Atlanta? Inhale.” He tries to make his voice soft so the others won’t hear, tries to will them to leave the room, even if everyone’s attention is focused only on him and Rick. “Remember after the Walkers? Exhale.” Rick nods at him. “Remember 20 Questions?” Daryl asks, figures that’s innocent enough. “Inhale. Okay. Remember how you were shit at it?” Rick gulps out a laugh and Daryl smiles. “Okay. Can you breathe?”

Rick nods and takes his hands away from Daryl, pinches the bridge of his nose. Daryl asks Rick if he’s okay and Rick keeps nodding. Daryl turns his head to look up at Hershel, ignoring Lori’s glares. “I think we should stop with questions for the night.”

Hershel backs up and motions down the hall. “That would be best. Let’s get him to the backroom for now, let him rest.”

Daryl nods and is quick on his feet, pulling Rick up and steering him away. He doesn’t trust anyone else to get him there.

***

Daryl pours Rick onto the bed and Rick curls himself into the sheets. Daryl collapses next to him and rubs his hand over his eyes. His ears are perked to hear the even breaths Rick is now taking and that calms him slightly.

He knows that now is not the time. But he has to know the answer. “You want me to kill him?” Daryl asks, turning to Rick in the darkness of the room.

Rick looks up at him and then past him. “No,” he says and shakes his head, speaks in a far away whisper. “No, it’s Shane.” And Daryl understands. Rick had told him that it had been six months ago that he and Shane had officially stopped their buddy fucking system and in the grand scheme of things, that wasn’t that long ago. Besides, Daryl knew Shane wasn’t just a fuck. He was a partner. A friend.

“Is he going to come back for you?” Daryl asks and Rick pauses before finally ending up shrugging.

Daryl nods. “Okay. We can deal with it all in the morning,” he says and then leans down, kisses Rick’s temple. “You gonna be okay if I go?”

Rick reaches out for him then, squeezes his hand and Daryl pulls his body closer to Rick’s, bends over him and stares down. Rick opens his mouth and then closes it, swallows hard. “Lori knows?” he asks.

Daryl sighs, shrugging. “Probably. Guess I wasn’t being too subtle.”

“I should have told her,” Rick says. “I should have told Shane…”

“Nah,” Daryl says and then leans down, kisses Rick softly. “Don’t you worry about that, okay? I was the one who said to wait. I thought if things could just get calmer...but they don’t, huh?”

“I have to talk to her,” Rick says and tries to stand.

Daryl pushes him down. “No,” he says and then he’s sliding down onto the bed, holding Rick. “In the morning. Right now, you’re going to go to sleep, okay? You’re going to recover.”

Rick sags against him, his body like waves in the ocean, crashing against Daryl and loosening, being pulled under. “I love you,” Rick whispers to Daryl and clings to him.

Daryl waits until he’s sure Rick is asleep and then he stands up, leaves Rick buried in the covers.

Outside, Lori is leaning against the wall waiting for him. Her eyes are burning.

“Is he okay?” she asks.

Daryl nods. “Resting,” he says.

Lori looks down the hall and then back at Daryl. “You fucking him?”

Daryl wills his body to be fluid and relaxed, to not give in to the argument. He says nothing, so Lori continues.

“I know my husband,” Lori says, her eyes unblinking. “I know how he acts around the men that he…” She trails off. “Are you the reason he left me?”

Daryl grunts and then starts off down the hallway. Lori follows him, snapping, “Daryl!”

Daryl turns around and looks her in the eye. “Lori, I am sure that we’re going to have it out with each other like no one’s business. But not now. Wait until I get back.” And then he is slamming out the door and across the field, his crossbow clenched in his hands, searching for Shane.

***

Hours later, Rick steps off the porch, scanning the dark horizon for any sign of Daryl. If he knows him half as well as he thinks he does, then Daryl will be back at the scene where he and Shane…

He doesn’t think of that. He can’t. But he sets off in that direction. Behind him, he hears the front door swing open and then Lori is calling his name. He stops and half turns, putting his profile to her. Lori walks onto the porch and then down the steps, pulls the jacket she has on closer around her and crosses her arms. She walks up to Rick and she sighs.

“I know you’re kind of fragile right now, but we should talk.” She tilts her head, tries to capture Rick’s attention, but he refuses to look at her. “You need to figure out what you’re going to do about Shane. I don’t feel safe with him out there just thinking about revenge. You need to fix it. Soon. I don’t want him coming for Carl. Or me. Or the baby.”

Rick shakes his head. “Shane made his choice. He left.”

“You’re just going to leave him out there?” Lori asks him.

“What do you want me to do?” Rick counters.

“Kill him,” Lori says and holds out her hands helplessly. “Or,” she shrugs. “Or go get him. Make him see reason.”

Rick looks at the ground, kicks the grass with the heel of his boot. “I don’t think either of those things are going to happen, Lori.”

“Doing nothing is a non-decision, Rick. Doing nothing means you haven’t decided. And then Shane…” She sighs and purses her lips. “Shane will decide for you. And where will your family be?”

“Lori--”

“I am still your family, Rick. I don’t care who you’re fucking.” She looks off in the direction that Daryl has gone and shakes her head, then turns her body to the side, biting at the nail on her right index finger, the other arm curled around her midsection.

“You are my family,” he says. “You’re the mother of my son. The mother of…” He swallows. “You're family. And I will protect you. But that doesn’t mean that I should go after Shane and it doesn’t mean that I even _could_ go after him tonight. So we wait on it. We just,” Rick leans forward and waves his hand, “wait.”

Lori looks him in the eye and then shakes her head, backing away from him. “You’re a piece of work,” she says and storms back to the house.

Rick turns to head off in the other direction, but he sees Daryl coming, crossbow at his side and something clutched in his hand. Rick waits for him patiently and Daryl approaches, lifts his hand and places a gun in Rick’s. “Shane’s gun,” he says. “Found it at the treeline. Must have buried it when he made that story about Randall.”

Rick stares at the gun and then slowly nods. “Find him?” he asks.

Daryl shakes his head. “Nah. Too many tracks. Looks like he left and came back several times. Hard to tell in the dark.” He shrugs. “Pick it up in the morning, though.”

Rick looks off in the distance. “I’ll be inside in a second.”

Daryl stares at him and then gives him that half nod Rick has come to know so very well. Daryl walks back to the house and Rick stares at the ground alone, before finally pulling himself up and turning back.

***

In the morning, Rick wakes and his head is full of apologies. He spends the day walking around to everyone--apologizing to Hershel for being a bother, to Glenn for sending him out on a mission where Shane could easily have killed him, to Carl for not checking in with him before he collapsed exhausted the night before. Finally, he is down to the two most important conversations he’ll have to tackle that day. He stands on the porch and to his left, Lori is hanging laundry to dry. She keeps sliding looks his way and then shaking her head. To his right, Rick knows Daryl is out, scouting the perimeter, checking for signs of Shane’s return.

Rick goes to Lori first. Because he will leave the most important person for last. He squares his shoulders and walks down the steps and over to her, rubbing his jaw as he walks. “Lori,” he says, still staring at the ground.

He hears the constant clicking of the clothespins stop. He looks at her as she holds one of Maggie’s shirts in her hand, unwadded and ready to be thrown on the line. “Rick,” she says, blinks, and then turns and slowly lifts the shirt, puts a clothespin on either side.

Rick pinches the bridge of his nose and then puts his hands on his belt, gathers himself. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“About which part?” she asks.

Rick shifts on the balls of his feet. “Daryl.”

Lori shrugs. “We’re not together, Rick. Not anymore. We’re as divorced as this world is ever going to let us be. So you don’t owe me anything.”

Rick tilts his head. “You seemed pretty pissed about it last night.”

Lori looks up at him, staring at him with her hard and unblinking expression. “Yeah, Rick. I still am. But I had the night to think on it and,” she shrugs. “Do whatever you want to do. I don’t care anymore.” She picks up a pair of pants and starts hanging them.

“You kept secrets from me, too,” he points out and Lori rounds on him.

“I told you about Shane. I sat here, Rick, and I told you.” She glares. “And you never mentioned Daryl and don’t you dare tell me that that’s something new. How long? I want to know how long.”

Rick shuts his mouth and sets his jaw.

“Which makes it long enough,” she spits out and clips the pants to the line with force.

Rick rubs his face again and then he leans toward her. “This situation is not something out of the blue. You know that. I’m…” Rick pauses, swallowing the words. “I have relationships with men. You know it. Hell, you’re the one who set the rules, Lori.”

Lori’s finger is in his face and she comes at him. “Don’t. Don’t you do that, Rick. You know this is different. You have always told me. You have always come to me and you have told me and you didn’t tell me about him which makes him _different_.”

Rick opens his mouth to argue, but finds he doesn’t have the energy. He lets out a hard breath and then nods his head. “You’re right. He is.”

Lori sighs, puts her hands on her hips and looks at the ground. “So how long?”

Rick shakes his head and looks off at the treeline. Unconsciously, he scans it for the familiar lean profile, the checkered shirt, the bow. “Atlanta,” he says.

Lori puts her hands on her mouth, squeezes her eyes shut, and then shakes her head. “You started fucking him...what? The night that you walked into camp?”

“It was after you were fucking Shane,” Rick points out and Lori’s body leans away from him. Rick shuts his eyes. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“It was,” Lori says, her voice hard.

Rick turns as if he’s going to leave and then turns back. “Lori, when it started, I didn’t know that it meant...what it means now. I didn’t. We were alone in Atlanta, just the two of us looking for Merle and then we were pinned down and I thought...I swear I thought I’d tell you when I got back. And then the attack and the CDC and...everything. And somehow in all of it, I just couldn’t. Because I guess after Jenner, I knew. And I was afraid to tell you it was over. I was just…” He sighs. “A coward. And that’s not right. I know it’s not. But we were over. We’ve been over since before any dead body decided to get up and keep moving.”

Lori looks to the treeline now, too, and slowly nods. “You love him?” she asks and Rick nods firmly. Lori licks her lips and then stands up taller. “Okay. So we’re over and you love him.”

“I’m sorry, Lori.”

Lori shrugs. “Okay. We’re over.” She shakes her head and picks up another item of laundry, shaking it out exhaustedly. “And you love him.”

***

Daryl is over by two sets of side-by-side tracks when Rick finds him. Rick kneels beside him and Daryl looks over with that little half nod of trust.

“What you got?” Rick asks.

Daryl points to the tracks. “Two sets that way. Leaving together. Dead Walker, here, too. Looks like it was done in by a hatchet or something.”

“Shane didn’t have anything but his gun,” Rick points out.

Daryl nods and stands. “Unless he found it. But I don’t think so. Further up, the trail starts thinning out, like someone covered it. Disappears in those brambles up there. Could probably track it, but figured you didn’t want me to.” Daryl looks over at Rick, who stands as well.

Rick sighs and then leans his forehead against Daryl’s shoulder. They are shaded from the house by the trees and the dense foliage in this area, so Rick takes the opportunity to lean up, kiss his thanks and hopes that Darl can understand his apology in that, too. How he’s sorry he’s been so caught up in Lori, in Shane, in the baby, to pay any attention to Daryl as of late and how he’s sure that Daryl has been hurting with that. With Carol and Sophia and all of it.

Daryl kisses him back easily because of course he does. And then he nods and leans his body toward Rick. “You okay?” he asks.

Rick opens his mouth to assure him, but then shakes his head. “I don’t know.” He steps away and rubs his forehead. “I need to figure out this Shane thing. He’s going to come back.”

“Give me the word,” Daryl says and shrugs. “And I will.”

Rick moves his hand down to cover his mouth and then shakes his head again. “No, I…no. It has to be me if it’s going to be anybody.” He sighs. “You think he’ll try something?”

“I think he’s a stupid son of a bitch.”

“Dangerous?”

Daryl scoffs. “Yeah. Pretty dangerous.”

“Tell me what I should do,” Rick begs and turns to him. He thinks of Lori, the same non-response every damn time he asks-- _I support you_.

Daryl shrugs. “We don’t go after him. We post a guard.” He kicks at the ground and then starts shifting on the balls of his feet. “Can’t go out and kill a man who’s not actively trying to kill you. You’ll never forgive yourself. It’ll make you different.” Daryl scratches the back of his head. “After Dale...bastard’s right. We got to be human.”

Rick nods and lets out a breath he’s been holding in since last night. “You’re right. We post a guard.”

Daryl nods. Rick walks back to him, slides into him easily and Daryl wraps his arms around Rick. Eventually, Rick lifts his head to kiss him again. Daryl grips his hand in Rick’s shirt and they end up on the ground, tangled within each other, Daryl sealing his mouth to Rick’s to keep him quiet.

***

Daryl becomes incredibly familiar with the treeline around the farm. For the next few days, he studiously ignores the house, Lori, Carol, and the rest of them. He needs space. Time to process the rash of events that have been weighing his shoulders down like lead. The barn. The Walker freed from the mud. Rick’s mercy shot for Sophia, a twisted gift for Daryl. His own for Dale, just as twisted for Rick.

And then Randall. And then Shane. All of it.

They fall into an uneasy pattern. Rick brings Daryl breakfast every morning, then he leaves to do whatever the hell the leader of this group does. He’s back by mid-day, spends the afternoon at the treeline with Daryl. Sometimes they fuck. And then they are both back by night. Rick has two people on watch at all times for Shane and Daryl tries to tell himself that they are ready for anything. But that’s always been a lie.

Today, the sun feels like it’s risen early and is particularly hot. The humid air, unusually warm after the earlier week’s cold snap, clings to Daryl’s back and the sounds of the forest are reminding him of that day at the ridge--of Sophia. Of all he’s lost and all he could lose. He’s already not in that good of a mood. So when Rick approaches with two boiled eggs clutched in his hand and immediately launches into talking about Shane, Daryl snaps.

“Don’t feel like talking about your exes today, baby,” he says and leans his crossbow down, reloads it after hitting a squirrel he happened to see crawling past.

Rick pauses and sets the eggs down in the grass. “I just thought we should talk about what to do with Shane.”

“Been talking,” Daryl says and lifts the crossbow, pointing it at the sky. “Talking three days straight. Out of our asses.” He pulls the squirrel from the tree and wipes the arrow off.

Rick studies him. “What’s up with you?”

Daryl squares his shoulders and starts pacing. “Done with this. Sittin’ around. Talking about shit that’s not going to get fixed.”

“Daryl, we already said--”

Daryl turns his back to Rick and starts walking to his right, down the treeline. Rick jogs to keep up. “Daryl!”

Daryl scoffs and keeps on walking. “Don’t,” he says.

Rick reaches forward and grabs his arm and Daryl swings around and shakes Rick off. They stand there, staring each other down. It’s Rick that speaks first. “Is this about Lori?”

Daryl shakes his head and stares off into the forest. It’s not about Lori. But yet, it kind of is.

Rick pinches the bridge of his nose and Daryl refuses to look at him because if he does he’ll feel guilty. Rick puts his hand down by his side and then says softly, “I love you,” like it fixes everything.

“We should have told them,” Daryl says and shifts his body weight from one foot to the other. “A long time ago.”

Rick nods. “I know.”

“We should have done a lot of shit differently,” Daryl says. “Should of…” He shrugs. “Should of told Lori. Shane. And…” he turns in a circle, kicks at the grass. “Should have stood by Dale. And never said that dumbass thing about how that little girl was ever going to come back.”

“Hey,” Rick says and walks up to him, grabs him and spins him around until they’re face-to-face. He wants to tell Rick to get off of him, to stop touching him so damn much and why does Rick always have to have his hands everywhere all at once, like he wants to be in the same body, owned and be owned. But Daryl doesn’t have that energy, so he just sags into Rick. Rick puts his hand on Daryl’s cheek and then Daryl is looking straight into those eyes, denim blue, lost in Rick like he’s been since that first night in Atlanta--since the first time Rick leaned over, kissed his neck and wound himself into Daryl like thread to a needle. “Don’t do that to yourself,” Rick says. “We all thought we were going to find her.”

“We didn’t, though. Rick, that’s the thing. We didn’t.”

“But thinking that...it kept us all going. Even when we were all doubting and you were so confident and so _right_.”

“I wasn’t right.” Daryl tries to turn away, but Rick’s hands on him are steel.

“You were. Maybe not in the end, but in that moment, you were right.”

Daryl scoffs because that makes no goddamn sense. But it does. And so he nods, too, and lets Rick move into him, gather him up and keep him there. Daryl drops the crossbow so that he can hold onto Rick and the air feels less hot, less suffocating.

***

Eventually, they come back around to Shane. Rick’s mind is reeling with all of it, the weighed decisions to protect the rest of the group or to save one man. Daryl listens this time, kneeling at the treeline. Rick is sure Shane is still out there and even surer that some confrontation has to happen out of all of this. Some moment of fixing or ending it all. Daryl keeps nodding as Rick speaks, but he tries to bring Rick back to sensibility. Rick can’t go out there alone, not after the last time. And Daryl insists he’s not trudging through the forest with him. Rick is pretty sure it’s because the mere sight of Shane would leave Daryl’s crossbow one arrow emptier.

But Rick has none of it. “I have to go,” he says, for the millionth time.

Daryl shrugs. “We don’t know where he is. And I can try and track him, but it’s been days, so I don’t know if I’m going to have any luck. Not unless we stumble on a place he’s been recently. And besides. That’s his territory now. Who knows what he has planned? If he’s just waiting for you to come in there.”

Rick shakes his head hard and stomps right up to the first tree. “ _I have to_.”

“Why?” Daryl asks.

Rick turns back to him and doesn’t even know how to begin. How to say everything that is on his mind. Pour all of it out for Daryl to catch. “I’ve been…” He bites his lip and looks at the ground. “Been really shitty. The last couple of weeks. Ever since we got to the farm. Hell, probably before. I’m a bad husband. Lori’s right. I mean, she cheated on me but as least she did it when she thought I was dead. And I just…” He sighs and thinks of Carl being afraid of guns. Of Glenn bringing back morning after pills. “Been a bad father. I haven’t even noticed half the things that are going on with my boy as of late and there’s no excuse for that. And I’ve been a pretty damn bad leader, too. Getting us into all these messes. Randall. Shane. And I…” He pauses, squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them, blinks twice in rapid succession and thinks of leaving Daryl alone in the CDC after Rick had burst into his room and crawled up into his bed. “I’ve been shit to you, too. Haven’t paid any attention to you. Just been off...what? Driving Randall out only to bring him back? Catching mud Walkers and dragging them back to a barn? Telling my wife she has to have a kid that will grow up in this world practically without a father because I’m hardly even fit to call myself one and you...you’ve been dealing with all this shit and I haven’t been there. And Daryl, I am so sorry.” Rick looks at him and shakes his head vigorously again.

Daryl stands from kneeling and walks toward Rick. But he doesn’t make it before Rick turns away from him, speaking quickly as he walks into the forest. “I have to do something right. Fixing Shane is right.”

He trudges into the forest, one hand on his belt, the other on his mouth, taking determined strides to find a man he has no idea what he’s going to do with. Behind him, he hears Daryl rushing up, but he refuses to stop and turn. He knows that Daryl will speak with confidence and logic, but Rick doesn’t want to hear it right now. He just wants to find Shane, throttle him or tell him it’s over. He wants to cut all ties, be able to refocus his life, center it all on Daryl so that they can finally be happy.

“Rick!” Daryl calls and the sound of his voice causes Rick to slow, to stop. Rick dips his head and puts his hand down from his mouth, but he doesn’t turn around. Behind him, he hears Daryl jogging forward and when he’s close enough, Daryl says, “You’re a damn good leader. You’re the best one we’ve could have.”

Rick blinks and can’t focus on the ground underneath him. He thinks of his gun, the bullets given to Sophia, to Dale. He thinks of the knife given to Shane. “Everyone is dead, because of--”

“No,” Daryl says, cutting him off before he can say it. “Absolutely not. You’re a good father. You’re good to me, too.” He reaches out and grabs Rick’s shoulder, pulls his body closer to Rick’s like gravitation. “All these damn assholes,” Daryl says, quietly, “who never think about what it means to lead. You know? All these stupid bastards who think you can’t make one mistake. Like you can’t be human. You are doing the damn best job you can do. I promise you that, Rick.”

Rick thinks of Lori, how she always tells him that--- _you’re doing the best you can with the information you have_ \--and how that never really seems true. Like she’s always ready to follow it up with _but you should have known_ or b _ut you should have handled it differently_ or _but your best will never be enough_. In Daryl’s voice, though, it’s somehow clearer. More honest. He grips Rick’s shoulder and Rick focuses on the way Daryl’s fingers feel around his muscles, sinking in and comforting. “And if nothing else,” Daryl says, “you’ve got to know that you’ve done right by me. Okay?”

Rick puts his hand to his mouth again, but he still won’t turn to Daryl. So Daryl slides his hand down Rick’s arm, turns him gently, and pulls Rick forward. “I love you,” Daryl whispers into Rick’s hair, gathering him in. Rick stays there for a moment, board stiff and braces himself for how Daryl will sit Rick on the ground, hold him up and tell him to breathe again. But Rick closes his eyes, wills himself to relax and turns in to Daryl, whose body bends into Rick’s in that certain way that’s so concreted into his memory. Daryl turns his head, kisses Rick’s neck and Rick shivers against him. Rick’s hands are in Daryl’s shirt, clutching at him and Daryl whispers again, softly, “I love you.”

***

Rick turns his head up to kiss Daryl and Daryl is more than inclined to let him, but his hearing--extra sensitive for the past few months--picks up the crack of a twig breaking above them. Daryl whips around, crossbow pulled from its sling. Rick turns, too, slightly slower than Daryl, but still at the ready. Above, on the top of the hill, Daryl can see a small trail and what looks like the tell-tale signs that someone had been squatting in the foliage.

He motions at Rick to stay and then he is creeping up the hill, as light and fast on his feet as he can be. He crests the top and looks around, sees no one. He turns to the foliage and then finds tracks, leading away. He examines them--two sets, one bigger than the other. Beside them, the broken twig Daryl had heard. And more of the same as the last time he looked, like someone has hurriedly tried to cover up the trail.

Daryl frowns as he’s kneeling, sets the crossbow on his knee. He reaches down to touch one set of tracks, as if it could just tell him who was here. Something about it feels familiar, almost alarmingly so. Something about the way that the trail is covered, the size and the imprint of the boot.

And then it clicks for him. As loud and hard and clear as the church bell they ran to looking for Sophia. Daryl turns, rushes down the hill to Rick. He starts pacing, his feet everywhere, his mind fragmented in too many directions at once.

“Walkers?” Rick asks and Daryl shakes his head. He swallows. Rick asks the second question. “Shane?”

Daryl shakes his head again and then he kneels quickly, stares at the ground floor and then squeezes his eyes shut. Then opens them and stands again. “Merle,” he says, growling.

Rick blinks at him. “...Merle.”

Daryl nods and starts up the hill, then stops and turns back, starts pacing in front of Rick again. He waves. “Covered the tracks. Shitty at it. Always thinks I won’t know.”

“Merle Dixon?” Rick clarifies and Daryl nods again. “Your brother?”

“Yeah, Rick,” Daryl says, snapping his gaze to Rick’s. “Goddamn it.” He kicks at a nearby tree and then puts his free hand, the one that’s not holding the crossbow, into his hair. He thinks of the last time he saw Merle. Thinks of going back for him on that roof, Merle hacking his own hand off because he would rather bleed out than wait for one goddamn day for his baby brother.

Rick looks up at the hill and asks again. “Shane?”

Daryl stops, gathers himself, shrugs. “Could be. Two sets of tracks.”

And then Rick is off, rushing up the hill, his gun out and by his side. Daryl rushes after him and Rick manages to hit the top before Daryl can grab ahold of him, stop his forward motion. “Don’t.”

“If they’re out there--” Rick starts, but Daryl cuts in.

“If they’re out there,” he says, “then they don’t want to be found. Made that pretty fucking obvious when they covered the trail.”

Rick looks at him, turns as if he’s debating his options. Daryl squeezes Rick’s arm and then turns around, walking back down the hill, pulling Rick with him. “They don’t want to be found, Rick. Those fuckers don’t want us.”

***

Rick heads back to the farm and Daryl stays by the treeline. After seeing the trail and knowing that Shane is close by the house, after listening to his own voice pour out words like _bad leader_ and _bad father_ , he knows there is something that he’s been putting off that he needs to do.

So he finds Carl. The boy is sitting on the R.V. with Andrea on watch duty and Rick pulls him away to the seclusion of the shaded trees lined up right in the front yard. He sits with his back to a tree and pats the ground for Carl to sit, too. Carl does, tipping Rick’s old hat out of his eyes.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Rick says and looks off to where he knows Daryl is walking the treeline. “And I’m going to need you to be real mature about it, okay? It’s something that’s kind of hard to understand. And I’m going to answer any questions you have, but I need you to listen and to think about it.”

Carl nods, furrowing his brow, and waits. Rick takes a deep breath and continues on. “Your Mom and I...we’re not really good for each other. We fight a lot and that’s because we have very different personalities and they don’t compliment each other. Does that make sense?”

Carl shrugs and picks at the ground. “Yeah, but all families fight. That’s what Mrs. Henderson said.”

Rick grimaces and thinks he must be a really shitty parent for his son to bring this to his teacher. “You’re right,” Rick says and nods. “Families do fight. But not like this.” He sighs. “Your Mom and I have had some long discussions since we came to the farm. And we feel that…” He swallows hard. “We feel like we can’t be together anymore. That doesn’t mean that we don’t love you. That doesn’t mean that I’m not going to protect Mom and care for her. But, well, it means that Mom and I aren’t going to be that close anymore. Do you understand?”

Carl nods slowly. “You’re getting a divorce?”

Rick smiles and it’s sad. “Don’t really have access to lawyers,” he says and then leans his head back against the tree. “But yeah.”

“You could try to work it out,” Carl says.

Rick shrugs. “We have been.”

Carl sighs. “Yeah,” he says and pulls a piece of grass from the ground. “I know.”

“There’s more,” Rick says, his heart pounding in his chest, anxiety crawling across his skin like centipedes. “I’m with someone else.”

Carl blinks at him and starts ripping up the grass. “Someone else? Like..Maggie? Or Andrea?”

Rick shakes his head. “I…” He sighs and leans forward, putting his hands on his knees. “I’m with Daryl.”

Carl pauses from tearing the grass and looks up at him, his brow furrowed. “Daryl’s a guy.”

“Yeah,” Rick says and lets a little laugh go. “Yeah, he is.”

“But...you’re not gay. You’re with Mom.”

Rick scratches his forehead and nods. “Carl...do you know what bisexual is?” Carl shakes his head, so Rick explains. “Bisexual means that someone can be with either a woman or a man and be happy. It means that they can fall in love just as easily with one gender as another. Like how you can like oranges and apples, too. Just different things. But you like them both.”

“So you like guys?” Carl asks.

Rick nods and sets his jaw. “Yeah.” He sighs hard and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I want you to understand that nothing I have done I have taken lightly. Okay? I know how hard this is for you. But…”

“Are you guys, like…” Carl trails off, like he doesn’t have the words. “You love him like you love Mom?”

Rick pauses, thinks of the way he should answer that, the honest truth-- _more_. In the end, he just nods and tells Carl, “Yeah. Yeah, I love him like I loved Mom.”

Carl has questions after that. Tons of them and Rick answers each in kind. When they are finished, Carl stands up and walks back to Andrea and watch. Rick knows that he’s not happy about any of it, but he figures he’ll come around and for right now, that’s got to be enough.

***

Daryl gives the perimeter one last sweep before deciding that Merle and Shane are gone for now, doing whatever it is Merle Dixon and Shane Walsh could be doing together.

He thinks of sleeping outside again. The shed or the the tent he set up just to the side of the house. He hates being inside with the others, elbow-to-elbow like snoring, kicking sardines ready for Walkers to just slurp out of a tin. But he knows he can’t keep being like this. Can’t keep putting himself on the outskirts, avoiding the others. Avoiding Lori. And besides, he thinks, he can’t keep letting Rick have all the pressure. Be the one to explain away what the two of them have. Defend it.

So he trudges back to the house, his steps heavy and dark. When he gets to the porch, he sees that everyone is inside, putting the final touches on dinner. Everyone but Lori, who is sitting in the rocking chair, her legs pulled up under her, her eyes puffy and full of regret.

Daryl figures now is as good a time as any, so he steps onto the porch, grabbing a stray piece of grass as he walks up and sits down on the chair opposite her. Lori wipes at her eyes and tries to glare, but can’t quite get the angle right. So she gives up and looks out at the farm, turning her body away from him. After a moment, she barks out, “go ahead.”

Daryl blinks and she continues. “Say whatever it is you want to say.” Lori turns to him now, her composure back.

Daryl shrugs.

Lori scoffs and then puts her fingers against her mouth vertically, shaking her head. “Just…” She shrugs. “Say it. Tell me whatever it is you’ve got on your mind, Daryl. Tell me that I wasn’t a good wife. I’m not a good mother. Tell me that he likes you so much more than he does me and that he fits better with you or whatever crap you tell yourself at night. Go ahead. Tell me you’re sorry. Tell me…” She shrugs again and then looks away from him briefly before bringing her eyes back to his. “...tell me that it would be different in another world. That you wouldn’t have fucked my husband like this. That if divorce could be a thing that we wouldn’t even be together. Tell me that you wish…” Her voice shakes and then she swallows and finishes it off with the heaviest sarcasm she can muster. “That you wish it could have been _different_. “

Lori stops then, her body sagging into the recliner and her eyes growing wet again. Daryl watches her, wonders how much of that she’s been holding onto for three days. Those exact words, those exact movements. He stares off at the field, thinks about what Rick told him once, about how he had had to carry two people he loved across it--once when Carl was shot, once when Daryl was. Daryl wonders if this farm really is good for them. “Could have been different,” he says. “You’re right.”

Lori looks at him with condescension and rage. Daryl presses forward. “If everything was as it was before...I’d tell your ass to leave. To get out. Drive to your momma’s or your sister’s or your brother’s or whoever of a fuck would take you in and I’d tell you to take Shane’s baby with you and to drop Carl off on the weekends, but other than that, not to come back. Not to ever come back into Rick’s life ever again. You’re right, Lori. It could have been different.”

Lori blinks at him in the late afternoon light and Daryl fidgets with the piece of grass he’s holding. He takes a deep breath and keeps speaking. “But it’s not like that. Is it? The world’s all twisted and fucked.” He shakes his head. “And all we have is each other.” He sighs. “I love Rick. So much so that it’s probably going to get me killed one of these days because I can’t imagine going through this damn world without him.” Daryl sets his jaw and looks out at the field again. “But Lori...all we have is each other. Just us. Just you and me and Rick and Carol and Glenn and Maggie...all of us. That’s it. We’re family, even if we don’t want to be. So I’m not going to tell you to go. And I’m sure as hell not going to stand here, either, and ask you to forgive me. I think we’re all past dumb shit like that.”

“And the baby?” Lori asks quietly.

Daryl shrugs. “It’s not Rick’s,” he says. “And it’s not Shane’s. It’s yours. And it’s mine. It’s all of ours and who gives a fuck who gave it genetics. You know? That baby is our life, now. You think I’m going to resent that?”

Lori looks at him now. Really looks at him. Not the way she had earlier, steel-eyed with the things she’d been wanting to say. But really looks at him. Really listens. Slowly, she nods. “Do you hate me?” she asks. “Because I hate you.”

Daryl stands, leans against the railing and shrugs. “Hate everyone,” he says and then pushes off, walks past her. He pauses by the front door to the house. “Like you, too, though.”

Lori does the impossible. She laughs and nods. And then she’s crying and Daryl reaches over, squeezes her shoulder once, and then leaves her to it.

***

In the morning, Daryl gets ready. He throws on the motorcycle jacket, slings some good arrows and the crossbow on his back, puts a knife into his belt and another in his boot and is just setting off the porch when Rick catches up to him.

“Thought you said not to go after them,” Rick informs him.

Daryl shakes his head. “Decided that was bullshit. Merle don’t want to be found? Tough shit. Fucker’s got a couple of things he should tell me.”

Rick nods and heads back to the house. Daryl knows he’s going to collect his gun, so he calls after Rick. “Just me. I’ll be careful, though, baby. Promise.”

Rick shakes his head. “I’m going with you.”

“Nah, man,” Daryl says, “one of us needs to stay here. In case they come back. ‘Sides, Merle would never hurt me.”

“You so sure about Shane?” Rick asks and Daryl shrugs.

“Figure Shane would stop him.”

Rick nods and then stands there for a minute, his profile to Daryl, obviously thinking. And then he approaches Daryl slowly. Daryl is incredibly aware of the fact that they are feet from the house, that anyone could look out and see them. But Rick must not care as he walks forward, puts his hand on Daryl’s side and bows his head so that he’s looking more at Daryl’s chest than at Daryl.

“ _Please_ ,” Rick says, stealing all of Daryl’s attention. “Please don’t engage them, okay? Just...if you want to go track, if you want to find where they are, okay. That’s fine. But don’t go talking to them. Don’t. Shane is dangerous. You said so yourself.”

“I can handle myself,” Daryl said, pulling away, offended. But then Rick is grabbing at him.

“I know. But I still couldn’t…” And then Rick is looking at him, those sky blue eyes melting into him like sugar in water and Daryl shakes his head, fights back a smile.

“Okay, baby.” He says. “Promise.”

Rick smiles back and leans forward, captures his mouth right there in the front yard, and pulls Daryl closer. Daryl wonders if Lori sees, but then decides it doesn’t matter.

***

Rick waits outside for the rest of the morning and when he sees Daryl’s familiar outline across the field, he goes jogging across it to meet him. “Anything?” he asks.

Daryl nods and wipes away sweat from his forehead. “Found things,” he says. “Don’t really trust my gut, though.”

Rick frowns. “Why?”

Daryl stops walking and Rick pauses beside him. Daryl looks at the treeline, then at the house. He looks up and away and everywhere but at Rick’s face and to Rick’s utter astonishment, he sees Daryl blushing. He wrinkles his brow. “Daryl?”

Daryl whispers low and hard. “I think they’re fucking.” He pauses and then nods to himself. “Yeah, um...I think it’s Shane and Merle and I think they’re fucking.”

Rick raises his eyebrows hard and then busts out laughing. He turns away from Daryl and puts his arm against his mouth, trying to control himself. “You think…?” he asks, but he can’t quite get it out.

Daryl frowns and walks to him. “Look, I found tracks by the creek. From the looks of it, same guys as last time. Merle and someone else. ‘Cept this time, I also found four dead Walkers.” He shrugs. “Three killed pretty standardly. One killed and then stabbed about twenty times, by the looks of it. Thought it might be Shane on a bender again.”

“Right,” Rick says and calms himself, clears his throat. “And why do you think they’re having sex?”

Daryl sniffs and then he wipes at his mouth. “Down by the creek, looked like someone’d been on all fours. Prints where hands would be, knees too. Pretty clear in the mud.” He looks off again, not at Rick. “Appeared to be two feet pressed into the mud behind the...first feet. You get what I’m saying?”

Rick blinks hard. “Could be anything,” he says. “Right? I mean, there are plenty of things…” He swallows. “That that could be.”

“Right,” Daryl says. “It could either be that one of them was having a tea party on the back of the other or they were doing something with tea bags. Rick, I am _just_ saying,” Daryl holds up his hand and shrugs. “ _Just_ saying...Merle’s been known to cop a man or two and Shane’s been proven to swing that way. Not out of the realm of possibility.”

Rick stops laughing and instead he stands there dumbfounded, his hands on his belt, his mouth open, and his brow furrowed. “Wait,” he says and closes his eye, holds up his hand. “Wait.” He blinks again and stares hard at Daryl. “You are saying...that Shane Walsh...is fucking Merle Dixon.”

Daryl holds up his hands and shrugs. “That’s...what it looked like. Guessing Merle’s doing the fucking, but I don’t really have any evidence for that.”

Rick brings his fist to his mouth and holds it there. “We do not tell Lori. Not until we know for sure.”

***

Rick crawls in the tent beside Daryl, the moonlight filtering in through the front opening. He lays down next to him and stares up at the plastic roof, watches how the slight breeze causes ripples across the surface.

“Why you keep sleeping out here?” Rick asks as he watches Daryl twirl an arrow, his face mostly shadow.

Daryl shrugs. “Don’t like being pinned down in the house. Besides, easier to fuck.”

Rick laughs just slightly and then rearranges himself so his head is on Daryl’s shoulder. He lays on his back, one knee propped up and thinks of Daryl that first night, how Rick is mirroring his position. He thinks of the CDC, drunk on bad wine and high on the feeling of Daryl, his body over Rick’s, the way his mouth felt. And then he thinks of Shane, briefly. The Braves game and the night after in the hotel room, how Rick couldn’t bring himself to stay in Shane’s bed. How he couldn’t have brought himself to leave if it had been Daryl. “Think we should go to the high school,” he says and feels Daryl’s body lift in a grunt.

“Why’s that?”

Rick sighs. “Getting low on supplies. Pharmacy's close to being done. And with a FEMA shelter, they might have heavier things we need. Pain killers. Antibiotics. Maybe more epipens in case Beth gets stung by a bee, you know?”

Daryl nods. “Alright. We going tomorrow?”

Rick shrugs. “Thought I’d ask Shane.” Rick can feel Daryl’s body stop, tensing underneath him. Daryl throws the arrow to his feet.

“Shane?”

Rick turns on his side so he can see the outline of Daryl’s face in the darkness. He wills Daryl to understand how much he needs to know. How much he needs to have that last conversation with Shane. The final one. “Yeah. More man power.”

“Fuck that. Just send me in there. I’ll get it done.”

Rick nods. “I know.” He sighs and then kisses Daryl’s jaw. “But this would be a good test.”

“A test? Test of what?” Daryl leans away so that he can better look into Rick’s face. “Test of how fucking schizo your ex is and whether or not he’s turned rabid?”

Rick bristles at how easily Daryl calls Shane his ex. As if there was enough there to begin with, just a series of confusing memories and poor decisions they both had made. “Yeah. Maybe something like that. We need to know if we’re going to be able to work together. Push comes to shove. Or if he’s a danger.”

“Right,” Daryl scoffs and sits up, crawls out of the tent. “Or if he’s fucking Merle.” Daryl storms off and Rick scrambles to follow him.

“Daryl,” he hisses and reaches for him, but Daryl knows exactly what Rick’s going to do. He turns his body to the side, swings around, and starts circling Rick.

“You fucking jealous?” he asks and Rick figures that this, like everything else in his life, can be chalked up to him having poor presentation.

“No,” he says, stern and unblinking. “Absolutely not.”

“You want him?” Daryl asks and leans back, takes a step away.

“No,” Rick says again. “I don’t. But we need to make sure he’s--”

“You lying?” Daryl asks and then is coming forward, right into his face. “You want him?”

“ _No_ ,” Rick says and then holds out his hand as Daryl comes forward, feels Daryl’s chest press into his palm. “Daryl, I don’t want him. Shane and I were just a bad arrangement from the start. It was supposed to be just sex and I don’t know what it was for him, but for me...it was never going to be like us. Like me and you. How could it? He never saw me. All those years and he never…” Rick stops himself, swallows hard. He puts his hand down off of Daryl’s chest and looks into the night sky. “You look at me and you know me. Shane looks at me and... I don’t know what he sees. But he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know who I am. And you do.” Rick turns to Daryl, who is gazing at him intently, even if it’s too dark for him to see the gray-blue of Daryl’s eyes. “You have from that first moment.” He takes a shaky breath. “I don’t know how the fuck you do it, but you do.” He swallows again. “I don’t know _why_ you do it. But I feel like you want me. _Me_. And I never felt that...not with Shane. Not with Lori. And God, you are so gorgeous. You’re so kind and so good and so...honest. And I don’t deserve that. I don’t. I don’t know why you think I do. I--”

“God, shut the fuck up,” Daryl says and then he’s grabbing at Rick, pulling him in and Rick just lets himself be held, lets the comfort of Daryl’s arms wrap around him like sounds of cicadas and the warmth of the morning sun.

They stand there for a minute and then Rick shoves him away, but it’s not hard or angry. He blinks rapidly and then sniffs, turns his head to the side. “I’m never going to want anyone else in my life ever again except you and you damn well know that. So could you stop acting like a fucking pussy?”

Daryl stares at him for a moment and then pull him back in. Rick puts his nose in that sweet spot where Daryl’s jaw meets his neck. “I know,” Daryl says. “I get it.” He runs his fingers through the back of Rick’s hair and then leans forward and whispers against Rick’s lips. “But I’m going to fuck you sideways just so you remember how much you belong with me.”

Rick smiles and blinks up at him. “I always will.” And then Rick kisses Daryl, sliding his hands to Daryl’s sides. Daryl tilts Rick’s head back and opens Rick’s mouth with his tongue, thoroughly exploring him. Rick feels his knees get weaker, his nails digging further into Daryl’s shirt. “God, fuck me,” he says against Daryl and Daryl growls, wraps an arm around his waist and then is walking him backwards to the tent again.

They get up to the side of it and Daryl steps away, nods for Rick to go in first. He does, bending down and stepping in, laying himself out on the ground. Daryl follows him and then plasters his body to Rick’s, bringing their mouths back together. Rick moans up into him and rocks his hips upwards against Daryl. Daryl gasps into his mouth and then reaches between them, cups Rick through his pants.

Rick throws his head back. “ _Daryl,_ ” he says to the ceiling and wraps his arm around Daryl’s neck, bucking his hips forward into Daryl’s hand.

“Take your clothes off,” Daryl says, eyes glinting in the low light, “I want you naked under me.”

Rick moans loudly and Daryl claps a hand over his mouth. “Sssh, baby,” he says. “Don’t want to wake up the house.”

“God,” Rick says while he’s sitting up, throwing his shirt off. “You’re always telling me to be quiet. I just want to enjoy how pretty you are.” He gets distracted with undressing, kisses Daryl again and then they are leaning back against the floor, grinding through denim and Rick is making all kinds of whimpering sounds.

Daryl pulls off again and shrugs. “Okay. You want to yell? Fucking yell.” Daryl bites at his jawline and Rick does just that. He throws his head back and he grows harder as Daryl’s mouth follows him, nipping at his throat and his jaw. He cries out Daryl’s name and Daryl presses his whole body forward into Rick’s so deliciously hard that Rick goes cross-eyed.

“ _Fuck me_ ,” he says and then he’s shoving Daryl away, throwing off his clothes as quickly as he can and repeating the words over and over. “Fuck me, Daryl. God, take me. I’m yours. Just yours.”

And then Rick is naked and Daryl is too and Daryl is shoving him down again, covering him and kissing him. Rick digs his nails into Daryl’s back and wraps his legs around Daryl’s waist. He feels the length of Daryl right up against him.

“No one else makes you feel this way?” Daryl asks and Rick shakes his head, hard and fast.

“No,” he whispers and it’s true. With Lori, it was always trying, both of them desperately wanting it to be something it wasn’t. Like they were convincing themselves that love existed only in compromise, in pragmatism and realism. With Shane it was always quick, pleasure and release. But no one had ever crawled inside his skin like Daryl, never molded to him like rain to the earth, mixed and heavy and new.

Daryl bends forward, as if he knows exactly what Rick needs, because he does, and whispers softly, “You are worth _everything_.” Rick leans up slowly, slides his nose against Daryl’s and approaches him inch by inch. When their lips meet, it’s electric. Rick pulls Daryl into him, tongue for tongue, touch for touch, one hand gripping Daryl’s shoulder, the other tangled in his hair.

Daryl kisses him back for a good long while and then slowly pulls his mouth away, trailing their noses together again. He reaches up, holds Rick’s chin and looks into his eyes, searching and wanting. “I love you,” he whispers right above Rick and Rick can’t blink, can’t ever look away because Daryl is all there is in this fucked up world--all that Rick has ever needed, ever hoped for.

Daryl reaches to the side, grabs the bottle that’s always in the corner of the tent, and then kisses Rick as he prepares him slowly. It’s torturous and Rick wants to yell at him to go faster, but that would involve taking his mouth off of Daryl’s and there’s no way he’ll ever do that. But then Daryl is asking him softly if he’s ready and he’s nodding and Daryl is pressing forward into him, his mouth latched onto Rick’s collarbone.

Rick cries Daryl’s name into the night as Daryl moves forward in him and Rick rakes his nails into Daryl’s shoulder. He thinks about biting his lip, thinks about Daryl in the CDC-- _do you want your wife to hear?_ \--and doesn’t give one flying fuck right now because if the whole south knows who’s fucking him that’s still not enough.

Rick puts his hand on the back of Daryl’s neck, drags him back down to his mouth and whispers inches from him, “You’re the only person that matters. Just you, Daryl. God, just you.” He arches himself up and Daryl slides one of his hands between them to stroke Rick, the other under Rick’s back, pulling him up.

“Keep telling me,” Daryl says and thrusts forward slowly. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Rick lets loose in a flood of words and moans and gasps. “You’re so beautiful,” he says and turns his head, searches for Daryl’s eyes in the darkness. “And you’re all mine.” He pulls Daryl’s head down so their foreheads are together, gasps in time with Daryl’s slow rhythm into him. Out of him. “Fuck me,” he says, “make me yours.”

And Daryl does. He rocks forward into Rick, stroking him in time, kissing him all the while. Rick clings to him as if his life depends on it and maybe it does. There’s so much other bullshit out there--Lori and Carl and the baby. Sophia and Randall and Dale. Shane. Merle. But right now, right here, there is only the two of them. Only Daryl over him. In him. Only their bodies pulled together like magnetism, clear and honest and true.

Rick loses touch of time and their movements jumble into one--Daryl in him, out of him, Rick quiet with Daryl’s mouth on him, screaming with his need and want, Daryl tensing in him and coming, Rick’s own hard release, Daryl’s mouth over him like trust, Rick’s hands on him like fire.

And then it is over and Rick feels boneless, spent, and happy. His muscles are weak like Daryl’s, his smile just as contagious, his lips just as bruised, but soft. They lay there in the tent together, wrapped up in each other’s body heat and happiness, Daryl whispering to him over and over how much Rick deserves.

***

The next morning, they walk into Shane and Merle’s campsite. Daryl finds it pretty easy to track the consistent trail that leads from the creek to the camp and he finds it even easier to see his brother’s dumbass perimeter traps set up around the camp.

Daryl and Rick exchange a look and Daryl sighs softly into the morning air. Just in case they’re fucking, he thinks, and then kicks one of the cans on purpose. They hear rustling from a little bit away and then they count to twenty.

Rick nods at Daryl and Daryl lifts his crossbow halfway up, ready and willing to defend, but not wanting to make the first move. Rick walks in front of him and Daryl follows, his eyes narrowed and calculating. When Shane comes into view, Daryl keeps his bow centered on him, enough so that he needs only a second’s warning. He notes, though, that Shane looks calm, loose. Far less like his blood is lava, waiting to pour out and destroy everything that touches him.

Merle chuckles and Daryl tenses, narrows his eyes at his only kin who abandoned him to the wolves simple as that. Left Daryl with a group he barely knew, to fit in or brave it on his own. “Well, good morning, little brother,” Merle says and Daryl bristles. “Fine day for a little family reunion, eh?”

So was the day before, Daryl thinks. And the day before that, too. But Merle was too much of a shit to even come knocking on the door, let Daryl know he was there. Daryl figures if Merle can’t bother with a two minute trip to the farm, then he can’t bother with conversation. “Merle,” he says and lets that be it.

“Shane,” Rick says and steps forward. “We need to talk.” He glances at Merle and then inclines his body backwards to Daryl. Daryl understands and holds his weight easy to step forward if needed. “Alone.”

Merle chuckles. “Aw, now,” he says, “you and Pedro don’t need to talk all by yourselves. You’ll sprain your cocks with all the waving ‘em at each other you’ll do. Better to discuss as a group, dontcha think?”

Merle looks at Daryl and Daryl wants to spit in his eye. But instead, Daryl turns to Rick, keeping both Shane and Merle always in his peripheral vision. “You got your gun?” he says, loud and clear for their benefit. As if he doesn’t always know when Rick is carrying and when he’s not. As if he doesn’t know every inch of him.

“Yeah,” Rick says softly, turning his head slightly toward Daryl. “I’ll be fine.” His hand twitches, as if he wants to reach backwards for Daryl and Daryl wants to be there for him, but he knows now isn’t the time. Rick looks at Shane. “Shane ain’t gonna hurt me, right?”

Shane sets his jaw, but nods. “Right,” he says. “Scout’s honor.”

Rick nods and then Rick and Shane are leaving for the trees, stopping out of hearing distance, but still within sight of Daryl. Daryl tilts his head and whistles hard at Rick. Rick nods slightly and then Daryl knows the sound covers the distance. He stands there for a minute, examines Shane and finds no immediate threat.

“You calling for your doggie?” Merle asks. Daryl doesn’t even respond, still monitoring the situation. “Ah, now, brother. Cop got your tongue? Looks to me like it’s tied up real tight in his asshole.”

Daryl swings around, his finger twitching on his bow. He would never kill Merle, would never even think about seriously injuring him. But he’s starting to wonder if shooting off one of Merle’s toes would be a good use of their time. “Don’t you fucking talk to me,” he finally growls out and turns to the treeline so that he can make sure that Rick’s body language speaks of tension, but not of danger.

Merle balks and then scoffs. “Hey, baby brother, when’d you grow a pair? Talking to old Merle like he was some horseshit or something.”

“You _are_ horseshit,” Daryl says and then for extra measure, he spits on Merle’s boots. Merle sets his jaw hard and Daryl thinks if Merle takes a swing, he’ll finish the job.

“What the fuck’s gotten into you? Besides that little copper bitch over there?”

Daryl snarls and speaks as low and as hard as he can muster. “I went back for you. And you had left.”

Merle raises his eyebrows hard. “The ROOF? You talking about that goddamn roof where I lost my fucking hand?”

“Yeah,” Daryl says. “You wouldn’t have lost it, either, if you had waited. I was back there next morning looking for your sorry worthless piece of shit ass. Not that you’d know that. Cause you didn’t even come to get me at the camp, did you? Never even showed your ugly white trash assed face.”

Merle grinds his teeth. “I looked for you. Didn’t see you. Figured--”

“What?” Daryl snaps. “Figured I’d what? Maybe gone into Atlanta to save you? No, but you did that yourself, huh? Bet it was a bitch to cut off.” Daryl looks him straight in the eye. “Good.”

Merle whistles low. “Damn, that bastard’s taught you some bad manners. Worse than a dog rollin’ in a pig shed.”

“Rick’s been there for me,” Daryl says and takes a step away from Merle. “Always has.”

“Always, what?” Merle says. “For a couple of weeks here and there? Shit. I’ve been looking out for you since the day you was born, baby brother.”

“Not in Atlanta,” Daryl says and starts pacing. “Not when those Walkers came to camp, all herded up and hungry. Not in the CDC when I almost got my ass blown up with fucking H.I.Ts or whatever the fuck they were. Not at the farm, when I fell down a motherfucking cliff and then got shot.”

“Oh,” Merle says, “and your pal Rick over there’s been nursing you back to health, huh? Getting you some purty lotion and some nice pearls and making sure you got some a-low vera shit on your poor little bruises.”

Daryl curls his lip, kicks at the dirt as he makes another circuit. “Rick’s saved us. All of us.”

“Everyone but the ones that he doesn’t care about, huh? Not saved Shane over there.”

Daryl notes the soft way that Shane’s name sounds in Merle’s voice. Notes that it’s not “babycakes” or “copper” or “maniac.” Daryl shakes his head. “You’re fucking him.”

“Yeah, boy,” Merle says, “someone has to. Bitch wound tighter than a grandma’s purse on Saturday.”

Daryl looks up at the sky and shakes his head again and then looks over to where Shane and Rick look tenser than before, upset, but without physical confrontation. Daryl stops pacing and steps up to Merle aggressively, his voice as cold as northern wind. “That fucker makes one move against Rick or anyone in my group and I mean one move, Merle. One. And I will see him under six feet of Georgia dirt. You hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear you, brother,” Merle says and then steps up to Daryl just as easily. “Now you hear me. That bitch of yours bats one little eyelash at my boy, takes one little step in his direction, hell, looks at him funny, and he ain’t gonna have _no_ hands. You hear _me_?”

“Rick’s not interested in Shane,” Daryl says, and he doesn’t bat an eye.

Merle gives Daryl an up and down look. “Fuck, you’re worse of a queer than I thought. You love him?”

“Desperately,” Daryl answers easily and then Rick is walking back.

***

“What do you want, Rick?” Shane asks and licks his lips. From the direction of the camp, Rick hears Daryl’s “checking in” whistle and he nods just slightly, to let Daryl know he’s listening.

“I need your help,” Rick says, “You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need you.” Daryl’s voice echoes in his ears-- _Just send me in there. I’ll get it done_ \--but Rick has to know. He has to figure out where Shane’s mind is these days. If he’s a danger.

But Shane keeps his eyes to the ground, no baiting, no arguing. “You don’t need me, Rick. Let’s not kid ourselves here.”

“I do,” Rick says and wishes that Shane had never pushed them to this. That they were all back in the group. It was easier that way. “We have to go back to the high school.” Rick tells him about their need for medical supplies, about how he needs Shane for the layout and the man power. He doesn’t say anything about Otis, nothing about the night in the field, nothing about Lori or the baby.

“Fine,” Shane says and looks at him. “I’ll draw you a map.” Rick insists that he doesn’t need a map, he needs Shane to go, and that’s when Shane rounds on him. Rick tenses, prepared, and knows that with just one whistle an arrow will carry. “What do I get in return for helping you, huh?” Shane asks, his voice edgy. “You try to stab me in the chest again?”

Rick thinks of responding the way his body wants him to-- _Yeah, and I’ll get your bullet in my head_ \--but that’s not how this will work. He can’t fail this time. He can’t be the bad leader, the bad father, the bad friend. He waits, counts his breaths, hears them getting tighter in his chest. He feels his body boarding up again, his breath shallow and uneven. But this can’t happen here. Not now. So he focuses on his left side, how that is closest to Daryl, thinks of strings of energy binding them together, Daryl’s calm voice, the way he curled around Rick in the field. Rick opens his mouth. “Guns,” he says. “Supplies.” He pauses, stares at Shane. “Forgiveness.” For Shane and for himself. For all of them.

“I don’t need your damn forgiveness,” Shane bites. “You and me, whatever we were, it’s through. I’m cutting ties.”

Rick lets Shane’s words evaporate in the air, burning off of Rick’s skin like a thousand tiny paper cuts healing. Through. They are through, he thinks. Lori and him. Through. Shane and him. Through. There is no one else, no one left, but Daryl. Just Daryl. All his thoughts, all his energy, boiled down into one focal point. It’s freeing. Healthy. Something like closure.

“Why are you still here?” Rick asks, wonders if Daryl was right about the creek bed. Hopes he is, even. Because Shane needs someone and it’s crazy that that could be Merle Dixon, but who is Rick to judge if he’s happy?

Shane looks at Merle and Rick has his answer.

“You sure about that?” Rick asks, wanting to know. Wanting to be able to let all the responsibilities that have to do with Shane Walsh blow away in the wind. “Merle Dixon?”

“Like you can say anything,” Shane says, crosses his arms, and sets his jaw.

And then Rick is asking Shane again if he’ll come to the high school, if not for Rick or for anyone else, than for Carl. He knows it’s a low blow. Knows that things like that will set Shane off. He wants to see, wants to push, wants to show Shane the edge and see if he’ll back down. “You owe me,” Rick says.

Shane stands there, but he’s not looking at Rick. He’s staring off at Merle, lost in him like Rick has been lost so many other times before in his own Dixon.

“Let me go tell Merle,” Shane says and then bites out, “Take your little crossbow bitch and go back to the farm and I’ll meet you there.”

Every muscle in Rick’s body bristles at the insult to Daryl. “Keep him out of this,” he says, low and steady and then he’s turning and walking back, needing to feel Daryl’s skin under his, assure himself that they’ve both made it through the morning.

He reaches Merle and Daryl and he can feel the tension surrounding them, like walking through water. He reaches out and squeezes Daryl’s shoulder and Daryl turns toward him, nods slightly. “You fine?” Daryl says and Rick nods. “Alright, brother,” he says to Rick, still staring Merle hard in the eyes. “Let’s go.”

They walk down into the forest, away from the campsite and Rick can’t help but notice that Daryl’s jaw is firmly pressed shut, that he keeps blinking rapidly, and that his body can’t stop being bowed toward Rick.

***

The high school is still overrun. Daryl kneels next to Rick and Shane as they evaluate their options. The FEMA trailer is in a bad position, same as it was last time, hidden behind a crowd of Walkers. They have entered the no talking zone, so Rick turns to the two of them, motions at Daryl and then at the crowd. Daryl nods and grabs Shane’s shoulder, pulling Shane with him toward Walker duty. Daryl nails a Walker in the head, right in the middle of the crowd and then he is turning, rushing down the street for the next building, his feet flat and silent on the concrete. Shane follows him closely and then they watch as the Walkers move to their past position but are unaware of their current location, huddled by a building corner, in full view of the FEMA trailer, but far enough away to make a break for it.

Daryl splits his vision, his peripheral watching the proximity of the Walkers, but his head turned to take in Rick’s position halfway to the trailer, so far undetected. “Come on, baby,” he whispers to himself, not caring if Shane hears. Rick slides to the side of the trailer, as careful as he can, but one still notices him. Daryl fixes his lips to whistle, if needed, but Rick sees the Walker, takes it out silently with his knife. Then he’s in the trailer.

“Moving,” Shane says next to him and Daryl nods, noting the Walkers making their way to them. He motions for them to go around the east side of the building and then up, if they can. Find a good sniping position for if he needs to cover Rick.

Shane nods and turns to walk around the building, but then Daryl sees him slam backwards, a Walker on top of him, grabbing and snapping. Daryl takes it out easy and barely has time to pull the arrow out of the bitch’s forehead before the group from the east side that they didn't see is moving forward. The first group, coming from the north, sees them and converges. With the building in the way, they are surrounded and their only course of action is to the FEMA trailer or further south, to the parked car.

Daryl pulls Shane up and tosses him forward and they’re running. He whistles hard into the afternoon air and he hears the FEMA door bang open, knows that Rick is now running without any worry for sound. As they hit the road, Shane trips. Daryl curses and swings back around, sees that one Walker is out in front of the others and will be on Shane in seconds. Shane rolls over, but can’t seem to stand on his ankle.

“Kill it!” Shane yells at him, but Daryl pauses, thinks now is as good a time as any to let Shane know what he REALLY thinks about the comment that Rick had told him.

“Didn’t know you wanted a dumb _little crossbow bitch_ saving your ass,” Daryl says and Shane bangs his head against the concrete.

“DARYL!” he calls but Daryl figures he’s still got twenty seconds. It takes Shane five. “I’m SORRY. Kill it!”

Daryl lets the arrow fly easily and then grabs Shane’s hand, helps him up and swings an arm around his back. When they are up and moving, Daryl growls to him, soft and low. “You ever threaten Rick again and this crossbow bitch will put an arrow right through your eye socket.” He watches Shane swallow and he figures that that’s all he will ever need to say to Shane Walsh.

Behind them, Rick slides up, the bag full of supplies on his back. He throws his arm around Shane and the two of them help Shane to the car and throw themselves in, pulling out just as the first Walker hits the hood.

***

Rick drags Shane back to the farm, assured now that Shane is no longer a threat, but worried for his injury. Shane refuses to stay and so Rick cuffs him. Daryl doesn’t agree with Rick’s strategy, but Hershel says that Shane will tear his ankle if he puts more pressure on it and that he’ll have to be off it for a few days. Shane argues profusely, mostly about how he needs to get back to Merle and Daryl can definitely understand the fear of Merle not being where you left him, so he heads off to the campsite to find his brother and give him a rundown of the situation.

Only Merle is not there. Instead, there is only a burned up sleeping bag, a note for Shane that even Daryl thinks is harsh, and an empty bottle of whiskey. Daryl kicks the bottle and finds that it’s not satisfying enough, so he grabs it and launches it at a tree, feels great satisfaction when it smashes.

Daryl turns to the forest, to all of Georgia, and yells as loud as he can and for as far as his voice will carry, “MERLE!” The sound echoes softly into the night and then nothing. No response.

He falls down on the hard ground and puts his hand in his hair. “MERLE,” he yells again, but nothing. “GODDAMNIT, YOU GET YOUR REDNECK ASS OUT HERE,” but he knows Merle has been gone for awhile now. He’s known when he walked into camp, saw the dying embers.

He lets his head fall back hard and squeezes his eyes shut. “You fucker,” he whispers, because he doesn’t have anything left in him to scream. “You fucker, you left me. You’re all I’ve got left of a family and you left me.”

Only, a voice says in his head, Merle isn’t. Merle might be the only person left in this world related to him, but that doesn’t mean that Merle is his only family. He thinks of what he told Lori--how they are all family now. Thinks about the baby and how what he said was true. That baby is his. His stepson or stepdaughter, if you looked at it in that way. And even if it wasn’t, the baby of the group. And he is part of that group, its protector, hunter.

He sits up and puts his hands on his knees, looking out into the darkness. “Merle,” he says again, not yelling this time, just letting everything that he has to say out. “Merle, I hope you’re out there, because I’m not going to say this again and you damn well better hear it.” Daryl takes a deep breath. “You’re my brother, man. My kin. You’re...my family. God. Used to think you’re all I ever had.” He sighs. “You fucking owe me an apology. You _do_.” Daryl rubs his eyes and then lets out a hard sigh. “You should have waited and you should have come looking for me. You should stop being such a stupid prick about always bailing on people. But I love you, man. You’re my brother. You’re always going to be.” He shakes his head. “This is your official invitation to come to the farm whenever you want. If you’re smart enough to be out there when I’m saying this. This is your ticket, brother. To be part of the group. I know you want to, you dumb fuck, even if you say you don’t. Shane could be, too, long as he stops pointing guns at people. Don’t know if you love him or not. Kind of hope you do. Everyone should have love. Especially now with all these cock-sucking dead bastards roaming around.”

Daryl stands up and sighs at the night air. “I’m going to stop looking for you, Merle. I can’t take it. You keep leaving and I keep following you and I don’t know what good all of that is doing. But you got kin, man. It’s just waiting for you to walk up. Just want you to know.”

Daryl nods and starts back to the farmhouse, gets as far as the perimeter of the camp before he stops. He looks down at the boot track, at the small crumple of foliage. It’s too dark to tell, but Daryl thinks that the tracks might be minutes fresh.

***

Rick is waiting for Daryl when he returns, slipping easily into the tent. Rick grabs at him, clinging hard. “Took too long,” he says and then he’s kissing Daryl’s neck, his ear, his cheek, trying to convey how much he misses him when he leaves.

“Sorry, baby,” Daryl says and sits down next to him, his arms resting on his knees, hands dangling. “Didn’t mean to.”

“You find him?” Rick asks, muffled against Daryl’s skin.

Daryl shakes his head. “No. Fucker didn’t wait. Pretty common for him though.”

Rick lifts his head away and stares at Daryl. “Think he’s still out there?”

Daryl nods. “Sure of it,” he says and then tilts his head. “How long you keeping Shane here?”

Rick shrugs. “Till he heals.” He kisses Daryl’s shoulder and thinks about how much warmer it is in the tent now that Daryl is back. “Seems to be okay, you know? We didn’t have a pleasant conversation this morning, but no one threw a punch. Was okay on the high school run, too. So he’ll stay here, least for a couple of days. Pretty much be a death sentence if he twisted that ankle again.”

Daryl nods. “Yeah. Wants to go looking for his man, though. I get that.”

Rick sighs against him and kisses Daryl’s ear again. “You think they’re just fucking? I got this weird vibe off Shane.”

“Me, too,” Daryl says. “With Merle.”

“Could they be…?”

“What?” Daryl asks and laughs. He turns to Rick, puts their foreheads together. “What, doing that man love shit? Weird, huh?”

Rick laughs and looks up at him, breathless and cross-eyed from focusing his vision too close. “Yeah. Weird.”

“Good for them, though,” Daryl says, “if they got it.”

“Daryl?” Rick asks into the dark tent and takes his hand, thinks of the smooth way they move together.

“Yeah, baby?” Daryl says, as soft as the breeze outside.

“Take me?”

Daryl smiles and puts his hand on Rick’s neck, brings Rick into him and kisses him hard and fast.

***

The next morning, as Daryl is leaving the house from having taken his shower, Lori calls to him from the kitchen. Daryl sighs and walks in, leans against the doorframe. “Yeah?” he asks and Lori waves at a set of green peppers stacked up on the counter.

“Chop for me,” she says.

Daryl narrows his eyes, thinks about refusing, but decides it’ll be best if he doesn’t. So he walks over and picks up the knife, begins working on the fresh peppers, chopping as Lori cracks eggs.

“I have something I need to say to you,” Lori says, and Daryl looks over at the hard angles of her body, the way she is tensely holding herself. “And..well...I need to say it real quick before I can’t get it out.” She wipes her hands on her apron and turns to him.

Daryl stops chopping and waits. “I’m happy for you,” Lori says, cringing like it hurts, but letting go of some of the tension in her shoulders, too. “And I’m happy for Rick. That you’ve got each other.”

Daryl nods slowly. “Thank you,” he says and holds the knife awkwardly, not sure if this is the end of the conversation or if he should keep chopping.

“Oh, honey, put the knife down,” Lori says and sighs. She turns so that she can lean her back against the counter. Daryl follows her lead.

Lori rubs her arms and stares at the dining room table. “He needs someone to care of him, Daryl.” She sighs and closes her eyes briefly before opening them again. “That’s why we never worked.” She shrugs. “We both wanted the same thing. Someone to take the pressure off of us, make the hard decisions. Someone to just...fall into at night.” She looks at the ground and the movement causes the hair on her shoulder to fall, obscuring her face from Daryl’s view. “I’m glad he has that now.”

“Lori,” Daryl says and then pushes himself away from the counter. He shifts on the balls of his feet and Lori looks at him. “You know that...that I’ll protect you with everything I’ve got. Don’t you? You know I’m going to treat that kid like it’s my own.”

Lori blinks rapidly and then she nods and keeps nodding in quick succession, her hand at her mouth. “I know. I know. You’re going to care for this baby. I believe you. Hell, you might be better at it than Rick or Shane or anybody.” She sighs, loud and open into the kitchen walls. “I saw what you did for Sophia. I want you to know we all appreciate that, not just Carol.” She puts her hand over her heart. “If that had been my boy...if it had been this baby…” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I guess I’m asking...I have no right to ask, but I guess I’m asking if we can just be family. Like you said. Even if we’re not okay with each other just yet. But if we could just be--”

Daryl cuts her off. “I’m never going to not be there for you,” he says.

Lori stares at him for a moment and then she nods. “Yeah. Yes. Thank you.” She nods again, affirming herself. “Thank you, Daryl.”

Daryl leans forward and hugs her. It’s incredibly awkward and neither one of them know where to put their hands, but the gesture is there and it means something. Daryl pulls away slowly, nods, and heads to the door. When he gets to the doorframe, though, he turns back and looks at her sheepishly.

“I...no secrets, right? No more secrets?”

Lori shakes her head fiercely. “NO more secrets.”

Daryl swallows hard. “Uh...Rick and I...well, we, um…” He sighs. “We found out that Shane has been having sex with my brother. In the woods.”

Lori stands there, staring at him and then she pushes herself off the counter. “Motherfucker,” she says.

“...that’s why he wants to leave so bad.” Daryl shrugs and looks around awkwardly. “To find Merle.”

Lori sighs hard and looks him in the eye. “You gonna let him?”

Daryl shrugs again. “Rick says when the ankle heals.”

Lori holds out her hand. “Give me the key, Daryl.” Daryl makes no move to hand her the little silver piece hidden in his pants pocket. She opens and closes her palm several times. “I know Rick would have given it to you.”

“Rick says--”

Lori jumps in. “If that was you on that bed and Rick in the woods, what would you want?”

Daryl lets out a hard breath and then nods. “Two days,” he says and hands over the key.

Lori shrugs. “Fair enough.”

***

After breakfast, Andrea finds Rick and tells him that Carl wants to see him and Daryl. Rick pauses and stares at her as she leaves, thinks that he should really thank her for watching Carl as of late, for putting up with him on watch duty. But for now, he walks off, finds Daryl just coming out of the house and heading for the treeline again.

“Hey,” he says and reaches forward, grazes his fingers across Daryl’s arm. “Carl’s looking for us. He’s over by the barn.”

“Us?” Daryl says and scoffs. “Both of us?”

“Yeah,” Rick says. “Don’t know what that’s about, but...well, figure we should see what he wants.”

Daryl sets his jaw and nods, but his eyes dart around nervously. He turns to walk to the barn, but Rick stops him. “Hey,” he asks. “Is...is that okay?”

Daryl shrugs, closed mouthed. “Fine,” he says and starts walking again.

“If you don’t want to,” Rick says, falling into step behind him, “I can just talk to him.”

“Nah,” Daryl says, “figure he’s got something to say.”

Rick grabs his arm, pulls him to a stop, and then looks into Daryl’s face. Daryl avoids his eyes, so Rick slaps him lightly across the cheek to get his attention. Daryl glares at him. “He’ll like you,” Rick says. “He already does.”

“I’m the guy that stole his daddy,” Daryl grunts.

“Yeah,” Rick says, nodding. “That’s true.” He smiles and leans forward, bites Daryl’s ear just slightly. “Wanted to be stolen, though.”

Daryl pushes him away hard, but a grin is plastered on his face. He tries to look mean, but fails and then is just shaking his head and stomping off across the field. Rick jogs to catch up and they find Carl exactly where Andrea said he would be, kicking at the side of the barn.

“Hey, son,” Rick says, walking up first. “Andrea said you were out here.”

“Hey,” Carl says back and darts his eyes to Daryl before pulling them away. He kicks at the barn again.

“You need something?” Rick asks.

Carl just shrugs and kicks again and then turns to Daryl in a whirlwind. “You dating my dad?”

Daryl blinks and then he nods. “Yeah, dude. I am.”

Carl takes a step away and squats down, begins gathering rocks and throwing them at the side of the barn instead. “You like him?”

Daryl grunts. “Love him,” he says and Rick smiles slightly, reaches out for Daryl and brushes his hand before pulling away, not wanting to freak Carl out.

“How does that make you feel?” Rick asks Carl and Carl shrugs.

“Fine,” he says and then tosses all the rocks aside. He squares his shoulders and turns to them, looking them in the eye. Rick catches Daryl smiling and turning his head down. Carl clears his throat. “I’m okay, Dad,” he says, confidently. “I’m okay with you being gay.” He pauses. “Bisexual. Daryl’s a cool guy. You just gotta love me and Mom, too.”

Rick blinks and puts his hands on his belt and then nods slowly. “Yeah, Carl. I think I can manage that.”

“Okay,” Carl says and nods. “I got to get to watch. Andrea needs me.” And then Carl is running across the yard and up to the R.V., where Andrea is waiting.

Rick turns to Daryl, who looks up at him under his eyelashes and smiles. “What?” Rick asks.

Daryl shrugs. “Boy looks like you,” he says. “Got all your mannerisms.”

Rick punches him playfully. “That went well, though,” he says and gives a relieved sigh. “You...you okay? I mean, with Carl?”

Daryl shrugs. “Carl’s family. Right?”

Rick smiles at him. “Right.” He looks off to where Carl is climbing up the side of the R.V. and then leans forward to Daryl, puts his hands on Daryl’s neck and kisses him softly, right there in the open, in full view of Carl and everyone else. “I love you,” Rick whispers and stares into Daryl’s eyes, shadow blue and intent. Daryl smiles back at him, his face open and then they are kissing again and it’s good.

***

Two days later, Lori releases Shane. The following day, Daryl looks up from the treeline and sees a familiar shape melt from the trees, bulldog tough and only one hand. Daryl sighs and walks forward to his brother, letting his feet crunch on the ground.

As he gets close, Merle spits off the side and starts kicking up dirt around the wet spot in the earth. “Hey, baby brother,” he says, muttering.

“Hey,” Daryl says. “What you doing out here?”

Merle curls the corners of his mouth down and looks like he swallowed a lemon whole. “Invitation,” he grunts.

Daryl nods and looks to the farm and then to the woods. “You heard me?” Daryl asks.

Merle grunts. “Was drunk.”

“But you heard me?”

“Blubbering in the woods like a damn nancy boy? Yeah. I heard you.”

Daryl steps his jaw. “You coming to the group then?”

Merle grunts a second time. “Figure you pussies won’t make it very long without a real man.”

“Merle,” Daryl says, but then Merle is swinging around to him and Daryl recognizes the move easy, the _old Merle has something to say_ gesture. So he shuts up and listens.

“You done got a lot of your whining out up there, boy,” Merle says and frowns again. “And I want you to know that old Merle never stopped caring for you. I had damn Walkers biting down that fucking door and I didn’t think you would even know where I was. Couldn’t count on ya.” He pauses and then growls. “Shoulda. But didn’t. Sorry for that.”

Daryl shrugs. “Sorry you had to cut your hand off, man. Sorry I was a prick about it.”

Merle just stares at the ground. “It’s fine. Just...you’re my brother. My kin. Ain’t no one going to ever love you like I love you. Cause no one's been through what we have. I know I ain’t always been there, but…” Merle shakes his head. “You’re my brother,” he finishes.

Daryl comes forward and claps Merle on the shoulder. “I know,” he says. “You’re my brother, too. And I’d really like it if you would come and join the rest of my family.”

“Fucking copper don’t deserve you,” Merle says.

Daryl shrugs. “Fucking psycho don’t deserve you, either.”

Merle grunts. “You said Shane can come back? His ankle’s pretty fucked. Might need some help.”

“Long as he doesn’t try anything, I don’t give a shit,” Daryl says and Merle nods, turns to leave. “Hey,” Daryl calls and Merle stops. “You wait for him?”

Merle shakes his head. “Damn bad at that.”

“He find you, though?”

“Hell yeah,” Merle says and then slowly grins. “Was a good little fuck, too.”

Daryl rolls his eyes and heads back to the house.

***

The next morning, Rick finds Daryl standing on the porch, leaning on the railing and looking out at the treeline. He walks up and threads his arms around Daryl’s chest, leaning his head on Daryl’s shoulder. Rick feels Daryl’s even breaths and his own responding in kind. He closes his eyes and feels at peace.

“I’m a little unsettled, you know?” he whispers to Daryl.

“Unsettled?” Daryl asks.

“Yeah,” Rick says and kisses his shoulder. “Nothing’s happening. Shane and Merle are settled out past the barn. Lori’s doing fine with the pregnancy and from the looks of it, I think she’s stopped glaring at you. Carl’s good. There’s no Randall and no one is missing or hurt. And you and I are just standing here on the porch and no one is saying anything about it. We’re pretty good right now.”

Daryl chuckles. “You’re going to jinx us.”

Rick grins and then bites his shoulder lightly. “You know what fixes that?” he says and growls into Daryl’s ear. “Knocking on _wood_.”

Daryl shoves him away, but he’s grinning ear-to-ear. He walks down the steps and turns back to Rick. “Why don’t we do something productive with all that energy you’ve got?”

“What do you have in mind?” Rick asks, tilting his head and giving Daryl his best seductive eyes.

“Wanna learn how to shoot a crossbow?” Daryl asks and Rick grins.

“Depends. Afterwards, if I’m a good little learner, we gonna make love in the afternoon sun?”

Daryl scoffs. “Hell no,” he says and then smiles as warm and comforting and real as Rick feels. “I’ll fuck you into tomorrow, though, if you want.”

Rick grins and then rushes down the stairs into Daryl’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to know what's up with Shane and Merle and how they got together? Go read the companion piece by skarlatha called [Higher Ground](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2749952) and see the events of this story from their perspective.


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